The Rose of Love
by greencyanide
Summary: Viktor Krum's life is not what he had wanted it to be. But there's hope. And there's Love.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for Hogwarts Online's second collaboration "Tell Me a Story". You can also read it here- ( http : / / www (.) fanfiction (.) net / s / 6199963 / 1 / Tell_Me_A_Story) - remove spaces and brackets**

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"Papa, the zoooo! Please, Papa, you had promised three weeks ago," whined little Sergei, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. Viktor ruffled his hair and set him down on his lap.

"You know you have to stay in, _malko edin_," he reasoned, stroking his dark hair. "When you get better, we will go to the zoo and the museum and if you are a good boy, we can even go to Lake Pancharevo."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, before his face fell a little. "But I won't be getting better, will I?"

Viktor's heart stopped. The simplicity in the little boy's voice, as he said the inevitable, hit him. But he couldn't bring himself to lie, and he was ashamed of that.

Ruzha bustled into the room, carrying a plate laden with steaming banitsa, pelmeni, syrniki and some sunflower halva. She was a round-faced woman, with a face full of happiness which seemed to have been sponged away drop by drop in the last three years. However, her large blue eyes shone when she called him or Sergei and that made her look like an angel. She set the plate on the table in front of Viktor, kissed his forehead, and motioned to pick Sergei up.

"Come on, Sergei. Papa had a very big match last night. Let him eat now, and you will have to eat your food too."

Sergei squealed and struggled out of Ruzha's reach. "No! I will not eat that broth! I want to eat syrniki, like Papa," he cried.

Viktor caught him, but didn't let Ruzha take him away. "Can't he eat just a little, Ruzha?" he asked.

Ruzha huffed. "You know he can't Viktor. Sergei, come on, I will put some honey in the milk. It is going to be delicious."

Sergei shouted and jumped out of Viktor's arms and ran out of the room, crying.

Viktor stood up- he wouldn't have this anymore. He shouted on top of his lungs, "Ruzha, you might as well chain him!"

Ruzha seemed to be taken aback by his outburst, and she searched his face for something. "You think.. you think I like this?" her voice quivered.

Viktor stared at her. He knew whatever Ruzha did was because she meant Sergei well, because she was stronger than him. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.

"I am his mother, Viktor! Do you know what a punishment it is for me?" he voice was rasped, Viktor could see her struggling to hold back tears.

"S- Sorry Ruzha. I know what you go through. It's just- I come back from the matches, the happiness, the celebrations and when I see him, I... it takes everything to not break down," said Viktor, his eyes seeking hers.

But she did not look at him, and turned away. "Eat your breakfast, Viktor. I will wash Sergei up."

Viktor rushed to her side and caught her hand. "I said, I'm sorry, Ruzha, and I am."

Ruzha sighed so forlornly, Viktor let her hand go. He couldn't bear to watch her so broken, and she couldn't bear him to watch her like that. A very familiar, but forgotten feeling streamed through him so suddenly, he did not dare acknowledge it.

He went back to the table, and picked up the newspaper. He flicked through the pages casually, when a picture caught his eyes. The caption above it read, "The Heroes of The Second Wizarding War Tie The Knot".

Below the bold script, there was smiling picture of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Viktor passed his fingers over the picture. They were cheerfully surrounded by their friends, the recently married Potters. He smiled ruefully.

In the last few years, his life had changed poles. He still remembered the Yule Ball, the day he and Hermione had danced away. Just like he remembered she went off crying after a row with Ronald Weasley. He was the World Champion Quidditch player, he, an ordinary wizard. It's funny how unpredictable the outcome of love is. He wouldn't imagine losing a Quidditch match to such a weak opponent. But in the game of life, he had been defeated by the ordinary wizard. Love won, they say, but did it really? Did he not _love_ her?

His parents had arranged his marriage to Ruzha. They got married and had Sergei a year later. They were his life now, whether he liked it or not. A year ago, he learnt of Sergei's terminal illness, and it shook the life out of him. It had seemed the bits and pieces he was trying to build his life back on were wrenched away from him again. Because he loved Sergei more than he had ever imagined he ever could. And Ruzha...

It struck him on the face like a thunder. He threw down the paper and ran into his study.

With shaking fingers, he picked out the hard-bound book, _The Laments of The Boatman_. The pages were dog-eared; he had read the book so many times. Carefully, he opened page three hundred and forty six. There was a picture of Hermione, frozen. It was a Muggle picture she had given him- she thought it was her best, and he had agreed. He took the picture out, and below it, was a small lump of scarlet cloth. He gently lifted it from the pages, and opened the folds of the cloth. Inside it lay a beautiful pearlescent pink rose. It was the Rose Of Love that grew by the edge The Fountain of Spirit. When a true lover keeps it wrapped in a white stain cloth for five years, the wine red colour drains into the cloth and achieves the colour of the precious pearls. He took the rose and went out of the study. He had duelled with the jötunn to get this precious gift of love. He would give his rose to the person he really loved, yet had never realized, or worse, had never let himself realize. He had mistaken attraction for love- But he will mend that; he will brace this love and never let it get away. The Rose of Love for Rose... His Rose... His Ruzha.


End file.
